Americans like fat books and thin women.
Russell Baker
Someone told me that I had cool clothes
And that my fashion sense was on the spot
Well I'll tell you this I owe it all to
Live journal and the indie rockobot.
Please pretend to listen to all the bands you like
Where are the tracks?
Where are the lines?
Where are the tracks, dear?
Where is the time?
You were so cold
Don't forget that you are our son
Now go back to bed
We just know that you are ours
You won't cry too hard
In Europe and America there's a growing feeling of hysteria.
Conditioned to respond to all the threats
In the rhetorical speeches of the Soviets.
MIster Krushchev said, "We will bury you."
I don't subscribe to this point of view.
It'd be such an ignorant thing to do
The gentleman is a dope, a man of many faults
A clumsy Joe who wouldn't know a Rhumba from a Waltz
The gentleman is a dope and not my cup of tea
(Why do I get in a dither? He doesn't belong to me)
The gentleman isn't bright; he doesn't know the score
I'm going to Chicago that's the last place my baby stayed
I'm packing up my bags I'm gonna leave this town right away
I'm gonna find that girl if I have to hitch hike around the world
"Chicago City" that's what the sign on the freeway read
I'm gonna keep on going 'til I get to that street's called 6th and Main
Ask a question, receive an answer
The golden rule doesn't apply to you
All confused now, content with living
Alone inside, solitude
Remind me again, that you're the one
I know you don't like to offend
Staring out of his window as the world rushes by
Arthur Robinson closes the glass and replies,
"I dream of Ballerinas and I don't know why
but I see Cadillac's sailing
If anyone should see me making it down the highway
Breaking all the laws of the land
Well don't you try to stop me
I'm going her way
And that's the way I'm sure she had it planned
Take my hand sweet darlin'
Wipe that smile off your face
I don't love anyone but you
No one can take your place
But sometimes I worry darlin'
The way you seem to hog my love.
